


To the Fifth Generation

by sophibug



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Future Fic, Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-01-26
Updated: 2017-08-21
Packaged: 2018-01-10 03:42:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 15,886
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1154434
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sophibug/pseuds/sophibug
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Several generations into the future, a new batch of Hogwarts students, descended (for the most part) from the original characters, fight for justice and their own ambitions. Preteen angst meets the great struggle between good and evil.</p><p>Discontinued while unfinished and written several years ago. If you want it, have it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So this is my first fic. Comments, especially constructive criticism, would be much appreciated. I have no writing schedule, and will post when I post. I hope you enjoy it.

A father and son walked into King’s Cross Station on a brisk fall morning, both wearing dress pants and button down shirts. A man in a black suit followed them, pulling a trolley with three trunks and an owl cage piled on top of it. The owl inhabiting the cage stared around with wide eyes. Two more men, wearing black pants and black button downs, strolled casually behind them. Their strength was readily apparent to those in the crowd subjected to their careful gaze.

The father spoke first. “We expect that you will write to us often. Your mother will want to know what you are doing with your time.” He paused. “I trust you will not be wasting it.”

“No, Father. I would not waste any time. The Thomases will be waiting for me, as we discussed?”

“If they are not their fathers will know not to cross me again.” He glanced at one of the bodyguards, a slight smile creeping across his face. “I have spoken to the Headmaster. The three of you will share a quadruplet.”

“Of course, Father.”

They walked on in silence, passing the first few platforms. Neither of them bothered acknowledging the Muggles who wandered about them. The bodyguards were now in front of them, clearing their way through the thickening crowd.

The son could not help the flicker of excitement that tickled his stomach when he saw that they were past platforms six, seven, eight. Just beyond platform nine, a group of people gathered, most of them parents with children. The families were laden with suitcases and trunks and cages of all sorts.

“Shall I walk through with you?”

“If it should please you.”

A smile flickered over the man’s face. “It is nothing to be afraid of, son. I would not want someone to think that you were afraid of something so simple.”

They walked on for another few feet, passing platform nine altogether.

“Of course I shall come with you. Thomas, why don’t you go through first.”

The two men looked at each other, and the taller one walked towards the wall of the station and through it. The boy felt his excitement growing, and he felt nearly queasy.

“Come, son.” His father walked towards the wall, and he walked after him. The other Thomas and the servant followed them. He willed himself to imagine the wall invisible, and then he was through into the hidden platform. Purveyors shouted out what they had to sell. Families wandered through the area. A train stood on the tracks.

“What do you wish to do? We have a few minutes before you ought to board the train.”

“We oughta clear out from this mess and find someone we know. I believe Victoria was going to arrive early.”

“Of course.”

It only took them a few minutes before they saw Mrs. Greengrass and her eldest daughter sitting at a bench eating popcorn. When Victoria saw them, she stood and began to push her way through the crowd.

“Never do that, son,” his father whispered in his ear, “it makes you look undignified. You must distinguish yourself from others. Have the Thomas boys clear your way through any crowds.”

“Yes, Father.”

Victoria finally reached them. She ensconced her friend in a hug, which he stiffened away from. He pushed away, and offered her a hand.

“Why so serious, [insert nickname here]? You don’t have to be your father.”

The recipient of the hug looked distinctly thrown off. His father smoothly took over.

“If you are hungry, you should eat before you board the train.”

“Yes, Father, if you like.”

He only smiled, but soon he and his son each had a hot dog. It was greasy and rather repulsive, not at all close to any of the food their staff made at home, but he ate it as gracefully as possible. His father seemed to be able to do so with grandeur, nothing like the lesser wizards around them who were practically tearing at theirs like dogs. Victoria sat opposite them, silently.

“Miss Greengrass, have you set aside a berth on the train?”

“Er… no.”

“I have had a private car set aside. You could join my son there. I would not have someone from so noble a house having to search for a seat with the rest of wizardry.”

“Thank you.” She placed a piece of popcorn delicately in her mouth, and tried to hide her blushing with chewing.

“On that topic, I do believe it is time for you to get on board.” He stood. The servant behind them cleared their plates. “Victoria, why don’t you go on.”

She stood, hesitatingly. Her eyes flickered between the other two, and she turned abruptly and followed the crowds onto the waiting train.

“Both of you, get us through the crowd to the other entrance.”

The men muttered affirmatives and began to clear a path, their employers following after them. Soon, they stood before his personal car. The servant had gone in to stow the trunks.

“Well, son, I shall see you at Christmas.”

“Yes, Father.”

His father laid a hand on his shoulder. “Go.”

He took one step up into the car, and turned. He opened his mouth as if to say something, and waited a moment too long before saying, “I shall write Mother as often as I can.”

His father smiled. “Don’t be scared off from everything, son. That hardly makes you better than,” he gestured to the others boarding the train, “them. I would hardly want to see my son acting like a Hufflepuff.”

The comment hurt. “I would never act like a Hufflepuff.”

“So you must make me proud, son. Go.”

“Goodbye.” He walked into the car, sat down opposite Victoria, and stared at the ground as the train pulled away.

 

It was nearly teatime when Victoria started bugging him to explore the train. He stalled, at first, trying to finish the chapter in the book he was reading--something his father had recommended to him--but eventually relented. They wandered into the next car, where a group of fifth-years were talking about some professor and their new classes. They made no remark at the first-years’ passing, but it got a little quieter until the others had passed into the next car.

The next car was empty but for a single boy and girl, who looked like they were also first years. The boy was running a hand through his sandy hair, and the girl was laughing. Victoria looked at them.

“Are they who I think they are, [insert nickname here]?” She whispered.

“Shut up.” He crossed the room in two steps, which brought him eye-to-eye with the girl. She licked her lips nervously, and spun one of her blonde curls.

“Can I help you?” She asked.

“I was going to walk through this car, and I can hardly believe that you are in my path. I would have thought that vermin like you would’ve been long gone.”

Her eyes narrowed. “I’m sorry, Your Highness. Anything I can do to help the most...great and powerful son of a most eminent and powerful man I would lay at your disposal.”

“You would?” He allowed a small smile to steal over his face. “Under what conditions?”

“I would if you weren’t such a dirty rat. We humbler vermin stay only that we may bow before your greater repulsive qualities.” She was already on her feet, and gave him a mock curtsey.

He brought his hand sharply across her face. She gasped, and held her hand to her cheek. His hand tightened into a fist at his side. “How dare you. How dare you call me a rat.” He thrust his chin into the air. “My father will hear about this.”

The other boy in the car looked up and met his eyes. “You must have heard that before, because I’ve heard it. And I never would have thought that you would dare to say that to me, James. My grandfather’s grandfather would laugh.”

He turned on him. “I hear that you think you’re a hero, boy. But my grandfather’s grandfather saved the world while yours was crawling on his knees before He-Who-Was. Keep that in mind, Malfoy.” He spun on his heel and was halfway across the cabin in his victorious exit when the boy’s voice came from behind him. He was speaking in barely more than a whisper.

“I always do, Potter. I always do.”


	2. Chapter 2

They stood in a plain stone room. A few Muggleborns whispered in amazement. An atmosphere of excitement pressed down on their shoulders, although James privately thought that excitement must be pushing up on his stomach. Griffiths, the groundskeeper, had lead them all into boats which had carried them to Hogwarts. The water had been cold and clear, a million luminescent jellyfish swimming in the depths. James saw one snatched out of the water and devoured by the famous squid. Then, they had been guided into a chain of hallways to this room. Through the wall, they could hear the older students talking and laughing. Then, it went quiet. A nervous smile stole over James’ face, and he ran a hand through his long black hair. A Professor Jilt, the head of Ravenclaw house, explained Sorting and the House Cup.

“Do I look okay?” Victoria asked.

James almost shrugged, a horribly degrading motion, but he caught himself. “Of course, Victoria.” Answering that question was a hard one, Father had said, because the answer must flatter the asker without promising attraction.

She smiled. “Thanks.”

James didn’t bother to look down at his robes--they were Charmed so that they wouldn’t become dirty or wrinkled. He did, however, arrange his hair, making sure that the shorter strands in front fell properly. Then, Professor Jilt returned.

“Follow me, first-years. The Sorting Ceremony awaits you.”

James pushed his way to the front of the line, and then allowed his legs to settle into the familiar stride. His eyes were unfocused when he came into the room, but he soon had to concentrate to stop his mouth from hanging open.

James had heard from his older cousins about the starry ceiling, but he had not been fully prepared for it. Dark gray clouds hung low, drifting past them. The moon, a few days shy of full, shone its silvery light brightly. Stars peeked through the clouds. He stopped himself from looking at the ceiling before the other first years even thought about looking around, and forced himself to look calmly at the older students, sitting in the light cast by the candles floating above them. A few ghosts sat among the students. The four huge tables were each covered with different colors, but they were all set with golden plates, bowls, and cups.

Professor Jilt brought a stool out, and placed on top of it the famous Sorting Hat. James smiled as the hat opened up its mouth and sang. He ignored the song, and instead examined those sitting at the head table. He could see little from here, but he focused on the Headmaster. He was clean-shaven, and a few silver hairs sprouted from beneath his tall hat. His robes were a simple dark gray, and he looked kind. James' smile got a bit wider.

Professor Jilt was calling the names of students, now, and the tables would burst into cheers as students were Sorted into their Houses. Patrick Gole, a friend of his, went to Slytherin, followed soon after by Victoria. More students went to the same table, but he had to force himself to not be disappointed when a friend of his was Sorted into a different House. The girl from the train was “Lestrange, Katy” and she went to his House. Another few went into Gryffindor and Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw, but there were no more Slytherins until Jilt called “Malfoy, Oliver.” The boy walked to his new table among catcalls from various tables. The applause when he sat down was not so great as it had been for others. Another two students-- Patil, Oscar and Oskrat, Lilian--were Sorted before Jilt said “Potter, James V” and he found himself walking to the front.

He placed the Hat over his head.  _ Slytherin, please. _

It laughed softly.  _ I wouldn’t dream of putting you anywhere else--“ _ SLYTHERIN!”

The prefects of his House stood up to shake his hand. He smiled at them smoothly and accepted the gesture before sitting down in one of the prime seats. A few third-years were already sitting there, but he merely gave them a dangerous smile and a few words and they found a different place to sit.

James was nearly grinning boyishly. His reputation had clearly gone before him, and he with a little bit of pressure here and there he could easily gain control. It was too early, yet, to see who his main adversaries were going to be. They would come, he was sure, but they would also go. He could be the best, and he would establish his own power. Even Father couldn’t tell him he wouldn’t. After all, Father might be James Potter IV, known to all of England, but that just meant that it would be even easier for people to accept James Potter V. James allowed himself to grin for barely a second before resuming a neutral face.

The Thomas cousins soon came to the table, and sat, one on each side of James. The blonde one, Yarik, was a bit smarter, if he remembered. Ulric was the one with dark hair so short that it could have been brown or black, and he appeared to be more muscular.

_ Dumb and dumber, I suppose. _ James thought. He clapped as another Slytherin joined them at the table. There was another Hufflepuff, and then Headmaster Longbottom stood.

“Welcome to Hogwarts! It will be an exciting year here, with another Poly-Wizard Tournament and the House Cup completely unpredictable after so many Quidditch players graduated. I hope to get to know you all better, and my office is always open. I wish you all a wonderful year! Thank you.”

He sat down amid applause. James looked down at his empty plate, and when he looked up the platters had filled themselves with food. He served himself a heaping plateful of food and began to eat, barely reminding himself in time that he had to maintain proper decorum.

The food was different from that at home. He thought back to Wiltshire, and the Manor that rose up from a gravely driveway with a hedge to a great building. His smile was half from memories and half from spite. He could still imagine an elderly Scorpio Malfoy, his son Rodolph supporting him, making a deal with his grandfather for the property that the Malfoys had held for hundreds of years. 12 Grimmauld Place, their townhouse, had an entirely different set of staff as well. So here was a third type of excellent food.

The meal was nearly over. James had been too tired to even think of talking to those around him and identifying his enemies. He was just polishing off his last bite of a treacle tart when the food disappeared. The Headmaster rose to his feet.

“The grounds of Hogwarts contain a place called the Forbidden Forest. I assume that that would make it clear to everyone that they are not to go there. Please refrain from using magic in between classes. If you want to try out for Quidditch, talk to Professor Ullum.

“And now we have the old Hogwarts tradition of singing the school song.” He waved his wand, and tiny red lights formed into the words of the song. “As there is no official tune, you may as well pick your own,” he said with a dry smile.

The sound was too chaotic to make out any actual words. James managed to whisper the lyrics to himself, cringing at their stupidity. The student body eventually slowed to a halt, and it was time for bed. The prefects immediately stood and guided the students down into the dungeons where James Potter V knew he had a private room with a fire and a better bunk than all the other wizards, which was how it should be.

 

“It’s time to get up for breakfast, sir.”

James blinked his eyes wearily. He forced himself to sit up, pushing his green and silver blankets away. He looked to his left. Yarik stood in the doorway, already dressed in his robes. He hauled himself out of bed.

“Have you laid out my robes? You will do that every morning. Set out my books in the correct order, too. What’s my schedule for Tuesdays?”

Yarik hurried to remove a set of plain black robes from the closet. James walked into the bathroom, and when he emerged a few minutes later Yarik helped him into them.

“You have Charms first, sir, and after that you have History of Magic. You have double Transfiguration in the afternoon. Is there anything else that I should do? Sir?”

“That is all. Where is Ulric?”

“He is waiting in the front room, sir.”

James bit back a word of thanks. “Very well. We shall go to breakfast.”

The walk up from the dungeons seemed unnecessarily long to James in his morning haze. Yarik and Ulric followed behind him. A few other students drifted through the hallways. After miles and miles of corridor, James walked into the great hall and took his seat at the Slytherin table. He waved both Thomas boys off to his left, and turned to the first-year girl on the right.

“Ahhh… Your name was Ophelia? From last night’s sorting.” He gave her a wan smile, and extended his hand. “James Potter V.”

She took it. “Yes, Ophelia. It’s good to meet you, James. I have heard a lot about your father, of course.” She took a generous helping from the platter of pancakes. “I’m from Ireland, but we hear about your family quite often. Of course, you have been quite important ever since the Wizarding Wars.”

“Yes. Where in Ireland are you from? I’ve been there a--” He was cut off by the sudden sound, soft but enormous, of hundreds of owls flying into the Great Hall. His own owl dove for the table, and dropped a scroll near his plate. He gave Avees a pat on the head before directing his attention towards the letter. A drop of wax, sealed with the Potter crest, held it closed. He ripped it open.

 

_ Sable Potter, to James Potter V _

 

_ Dearest son, I hope you are already enjoying your time at Hogwarts. I have sent this letter just to tell you that everything will work out in the end even though we are soon going to go through a hard time. What is hiding under the cover of England’s fair starlight is soon going to burst through into full sun, but until then no one can know what lies there. Write me often. I love you. _

 

_ With love and affection, Mother _

 

“Who wrote you?” Asked Ophelia, opening her copy of  _ The Morning Prophetess _ . Yesterday’s copy of  _ The Evening Seer _ lay open on the table, considerably shorter than its counterpart.

“My mother. She loves me very much but can sometimes be a bit overpowering.”  
“Writing you when you haven’t missed her for more than a day? I should think so.”

James smiled, but tucked the scroll into his robes. He would have to think about its message later. “What about you?”

She rolled her eyes. “My mom’s the one who’s always after me to get stuff done. My dad thinks that he should spend most of his time coddling me.”

“Are they both wizards?”

“Yeah, but my mom’s a Ravenclaw and my dad’s a Hufflepuff. Well they are now. They were both Gryffindors when they were younger.”

James snorted. Ophelia raised her eyebrows.

“I have always had a particular distaste for Gryffindors. They’re not useful for anything, except during times of war.”

Ophelia gave a thin smile. “I suppose not. Here, there’s an article in here about you. And Malfoy. Apparently this is the first time a Potter and a Malfoy have been in the same year since He-Who-Was was still around.”

“Fascinating. Any news?”

She flipped through the pages. “A mysterious murder in Belfast, some Healer is spouting his opinions, an article about Hogwarts starting, a politician spouting  _ his _ opinions…. No, not really.” She took a bite of her pancakes.

“Are you still going to get  _ The Evening Seer _ if you get them both in the morning? It seems repetitive.”

“Probably not. My subscription lasts until the end of the month. My granddad says it was better when it was still  _ The Daily Prophet _ , but before I came here I liked getting the information before it had been mulled over all the way. It seemed like it was more in real time.” She shrugged.

“I suppose. We get six newspapers at home daily, and another eight once a week. I’ll have to ask my father to have some papers sent to me.”

“Fourteen newspapers? Do you have time to read them all?”

“Father reads the politics and news sections. I try to, but mostly just read the highlights. There just isn’t enough time to keep up with the world.”

“Is your dining room table big enough to hold them all?” She seemed quite surprised by the number to papers that they got.

“The house in Wiltshire is plenty big enough. Grimmauld Place can hold some difficulties.”

“Wiltshire? Is that where Voldemort--”

“Yes, and my grandfather bought it from the Malfoys.” His father’s words rang in his mind.  _ Always let someone complete their sentence, even if it’s a stupid sentence. _ He set his jaw. “I am sorry; I should have let you finish.”

She waved her hand airily. “No, no. It’s fine. I would hardly want my mansion associated with He-Who-Was. I mean, I don’t live in a mansion, but if I did.”

“Even so.” He tried to think of a new conversation topic. “Murder in Belfast?”

“Yes.” She flipped through the pages. “They haven’t apprehended the killer yet. Some old man was found strangled in his bed. The bed was burned around him, but he had his wand in his hand when he died, so presumably he had found a way to put out the fire. I don’t know what makes it mysterious, usually it’s only mysterious if someone interesting has their body found in a car or the side of a road or in alleys. Usually multiple alleys.”

“Perhaps they were running out of news,” said James, taking a drink from his goblet.

Ophelia smiled. “Perhaps.”


	3. Chapter 3

“Good morning, first years.” Professor Lu, a slight woman with a large strip of her hair bleached from black to reddish brown, stood in front of the class. “Welcome to Charms, where you’ll learn most of what you think of as magic. Charms is extremely important. Potions are good in their place, and Transfiguration is useful in certain circumstances, but wars are won and lost with spells and charms.” She smiled. “I expect your full attention in this class. I understand that many of you are, as the Muggles put it quite some time ago, “too cool for school.” But this is not merely a class, this is what most people think defines you as a magic-user. Welcome to the real world. It’s time to learn.

“You may be members of my house, but that is not an automatic ticket to success. It takes hard work to achieve anything worth achieving. There is an easy way. The easy way is not long, but you end up with less than you started with. The Hat has decided that you are ambitious. Ambition is important, but it must be channeled into energy. Just because you are not Hufflepuffs doesn’t mean you don’t have to work, and just because you are not Ravenclaws doesn’t mean you don’t have to think. The hard road leads to victory, and victory leads to hard work. Anyone who is not prepared for that should talk to me about switching Houses.”

She smiled. “Let me take role.”

A few minutes later she had them all standing up, attempting to make the ends of their wands glow. “Be careful not to overpower your wands. If the light turns scarlet, tell me immediately. Please do not touch anything flammable with the end of your wand.”

“ _ Lumos _ ,” whispered James. A light immediately sprang into life in the perfect shade of pale yellow. The other students were not having such luck. Caspian Rall, a Muggleborn, kept shouting the spell at the top of his lungs, to no avail. Victoria had overpowered the spell, and lit three desks and another girl’s robes on fire before Professor Lu gave the counterspell and put out the flames. The girl whose robes had been lit on fire--he thought her name might be Janet or Jane or something--had thus far managed to have her wand give off a moment’s light at her command before going dark again.

“Enough,” said Professor Lu. Her voice was not a whisper, and not a shout, but it managed to draw the attention of the entire class. She whispered a spell to herself that James couldn’t hear, and all of the lit wands in the room switched off. “I want everyone to write six inches on the spell for tonight, as well as errors that people tend to make in casting it. Drop it on my desk in this classroom before the end of lunch tomorrow. Practice may not make perfect, but it certainly makes permanent, first-years, and tomorrow you will spend the class casting the spell until you can cast it perfectly ten times in a row. Only then will I allow you to move on to the counterspell. Understood?”

Silence reigned, and only a few students dared to nod.

“When I ask you a question, I expect an answer.”

A chorus of “Yes, Professor” rang through the classroom. She smiled.

When the bell rang a few minutes later, the first-years streamed through the door. Ophelia appeared by James' side.

“What do you think of our Head of House?”

James smiled. “I can see why she’s a Slytherin. Although I hope that she doesn’t spend the entire year lecturing us on being ambitious. It might get old after a while.”

“She seems like a good teacher, though. I saw her helping a lot of the Muggleborns think of different ways to view the spell. Most of those she talked to specifically got it.”

“Yes. My father says that the school tries very hard to rid themselves of subpar teachers after the old fiasco with Defense Against the Dark Arts during the Second Wizarding War.”

She smiled. “Didn’t Harry Potter have Voldemort as a teacher one year? And a werewolf a few years later?”

James laughed. “That wasn’t even the worst of it. What do your parents do for a living?”

“My dad’s a businessman, and my mom works part-time as a Healer. I have an older brother who works for an Alchemy firm in the States. Why?”

“Just wondering. What type of businessman?”

She shrugged. “He works in human resources doing payroll and helping customers for a small clothing company.”

“Oh. That’s nice. What do you want to do when you grow up?”

“I’m not sure. Maybe something with Potions or wandmaking.”

By this time they were mounting the steps to the History of Magic classroom. James made himself smile. “That’s nice.”

“What about you?”

“I want to do what my father does.” He paused, sliding into a seat. “But better.” Ulric walked over and placed James' parchment, pen, and book on his desk.

Ophelia laughed, although James thought it sounded a bit forced. “That works, I suppose.” She sat down next to him. Victoria strode into the room, and sat on his other side.

Professor Zulric, a young man with nondescript brown hair, walked into the classroom. Professor Binns floated in behind him, humming to himself.

“First years!” Shouted Zulric. The class stared up at him. “This is the History of Magic. We have a piece of living history here in the form of Professor Binns. He will teach most of the lessons. However, many students have complained that the class is extremely boring with only him teaching. As Headmaster Longbottom is dedicated to excellence, I am also here. I will tell you the interesting pieces that other people don’t tell you. I will sort out which people are which in case our dear Professor gets them mixed up. And at the end of the year, I will tell you everything that has happened in the last hundred years. And now, for our inestimable senior professor to teach, get out parchment and be ready to take notes. You will be quizzed every day.  _ Hogwarts, A History _ is not the only book you need, although if you really want to you can just skip class and go to the library every day after the quiz. Learn the material! I won’t take role and I don’t care how you learn it, but you must learn the material.” He stepped aside, and Binns glided up to the lectern.

The entire class period was filled with Binns droning on about early Magical history. James, after zoning out for some time and hurrying to copy down Victoria’s notes, decided to find someone who could pay attention and give them a quill that would let them write on both their scrolls at once.

Finally the period was over. People wandered out of the classroom, trying to push themselves to move after sitting still for so long. Ophelia and Victoria stretched in their seats, but both of them sprang up as soon as James stood. He strode towards the door, the Thomas boys behind him hurriedly trying to clean up his materials so that they could walk with him to lunch.

Lunch was a noisy affair. Ophelia and Victoria both wanted James to sit next to them, and he finally managed to throw them both off and sit between two fifth-years that he had never seen before. Ulric and Yarik were stuck with the girls. He turned to the person on his right. She had her curly hair half-up, the dyed brown streaks accenting her natural blondeness.

“James Potter V.” He offered her his hand.

She smiled, and took it. “Minnie Silp. You may know my sister; she’s in your year.”

“Jane? Is that it? I heard her name during Sorting but it’s hard to remember sometimes.”

“Yes, Jane. What did you have this morning?”

“Charms and History.” He took a bite of his roast beef.

She gave him another smile, her teeth beautifully white. “What did you think of our dear Professor Lu? Did she give- no, that’s stupid to ask. How many lectures did you get today?”

“Four.” He laughed nervously. Conversations were not supposed to be this awkward, and he worked hard to make his face remain neutral. “I suppose, then, that they don’t stop.”

“No. They are interesting, though, if you listen to them carefully.” She brushed an errant curl behind her ear, and took a careful drink. James thought he might die.

“My father says that she talks a lot about how Slytherins should be associated with ambition and victory and power, not with evil.”

“Oh, yes. The famous James Potter IV. I met him once, but I don’t remember it particularly.”

_ I shouldn’t have brought up my father. _ “A lot of people say that.” James paused. “What classes are you taking this year?”

“The usual, of course. I’m also taking Arithmancy and Ancient Runes. Next year I want to drop History and Herbology and try to take Alchemy and Magical Theory. I’m interesting in a lot of hard magics, and I think I want to go into something with them. What do you have this afternoon?”

“Double Transfiguration. What do you think of Professor Middleton?”

“She’s good at her job, but you she isn’t a very nice person. She tends to hurt people’s feelings. You might want to try to get on her good side and stay there. Silence is your best choice for that.”

James nodded, and took another bite without thinking about it.

“I saw you trying to switch seats earlier. Are you already trying to fend off girls?” She raised her eyebrows. “It must be your haircut. Or possibly the very Slytherin appeal of power.”

He nearly choked.  _ She likes the haircut?! _

Someone tapped on her shoulder. “Minnie, can you help me with my Arithmancy homework? I was so hungry that I couldn’t hear a word that Professor Brigg said.”

Minnie presented James with another smile. “I’m sorry; I have to help him with his homework. Maybe I can talk to you later?”

“Er…”  _ Never stall with obvious words like “er” or “em.” Say something that sounds grand but isn’t if you’re too slow to talk properly. _ “Of course. If you can’t find me I’m in the fourth room.”

“A quadruplet? I can hardly believe that a Potter didn’t get treated with a prefect’s single, even in his first year.” She turned, and began to talk to the other boy.

James bit his lip, and took a deep breath. Then he turned to the boy on his left.

“Hello.”

The older boy turned to him. He had reddish brown hair cut short, and he didn’t smile.

“What?”

“I’m James Potter V. I was just saying hello.”

“I’m Justin Krozak. What do you want?”

James tilted his head. “I just thought I would be polite and introduce myself. Allow me,” he said, and turned to face straight ahead.

“I’ll allow you to go straight to Quirrell’s skull, you blood purist.”

James tightened his lips. “What did you just call me?”

Justin laughed. “A blood purist. Does the hurt the little boy?” He laughed. “Death Eater.”

James stood. “How dare you.” His eyes narrowed.  _ Don’t respond immediately to a threat. Plan, and act later. _ He didn’t feel like following his father’s advice today.

“I’m game for a fight if you want one.” Justin swung his legs around and faced his younger opponent. James saw Yarik and Ulric standing and beginning to walk towards him.

Professor Lu got there faster. “Is there a problem? James? Justin?”

Justin’s face hardened. “No, Professor.”

“James?”

_ Don’t go crying to a teacher. It looks weak. _ “Everything is just fine, Professor.”

“And it  _ will _ stay that way.” She turned and walked back to the head table.

“We’ll finish this later,” muttered Justin. He grabbed his books and walked out of the Great Hall.

Yarik and Ulric closed the remaining difference. “A problem, sir?” Yarik asked, just as the food disappeared from the platters.

“No. Let’s go to Transfiguration.”


	4. Chapter 4

It was nine twenty. Professor Middleton had given them eight inches on worst-case scenarios for Transfiguration on top of Professor Lu’s six inches on the Wand-Lighting Spell and James' personal task of arranging for someone to write the notes for History. He had only finished a few minutes before. James was sitting at a composing desk in the Owlery, Avees sitting nearby. He started his fifth letter to his father, the rest in a crumpled heap on the floor. His letter to his mother was already signed and sealed.

 

_ James Potter V to James Potter IV _

 

_ Father. Can it be arranged that a few newspapers come to me at school? You can hear about my first day of school from Mother. It went well, and I have identified several possible allies. _

 

_ I write to you because I have a problem. If you meet someone, and it is not to your advantage to be their friend, but they attach themselves to you, what do you do? _

 

_ All the best, James. _

 

James stared at the paper for a while, willing for better words to come to him. None came, so he tied the letters to Avees and sent him off. He sighed, picked up the rejected letters, and walked towards the bin. The thought of going back to the common room and dealing with people was repulsive, so he went back to the table to sit down. He penned a few random letters to other relatives and friends, and left them in a pile on the table. He was just about to leave, not expecting a reply until morning, when Avees swooped back into the room.

 

_ James Potter IV to James Potter V _

 

_ Son. I will arrange the newspapers. I am glad that you are not wasting your time. Your mother and I are actually quite nearby doing some business, hence my accelerated response time. _

 

_ I would think that the answer is clear. You use them. _

 

_ Father. _

  
  


Double Charms on Wednesday dragged on for hours, but by the end of the class nearly everyone could cast the spell properly. Even Caspian Rall could do it at a whisper. After lunch, he noted down the people he had met in a notebook that Yarik had given to him. Ursula Dontue would be good for help with homework. Hermione Dave might be a willing ally. Ophelia was persistent as always, and no use for her had come to mind.

Professor Tover for Herbology was amusing, but not a particularly good teacher. The time was filled with jokes and stories, and when he tripped over a table leg and sent papers flying across the floor he only laughed. He assigned them a chart on how to classify plants. Professor Jilt, the head of Ravenclaw, was an excellent teacher. His Potions classroom was clean and well-lit. He laughed and told jokes throughout the class, but James had also felt that he could teach well.

After an uneventful dinner, at eight thirty, James climbed the stairs of one one of the towers for Astronomy. His class was in half an hour, but it was the only way he could think of to be alone. The Thomas boys followed at a distance. Finally, he reached the top. Despite his heavy cloak, he shivered in the early cold.

A lone figure sat on top of the tower, staring at the stars. They were out in their full glory tonight, and James could identify a few planets hanging in the sky. Mother liked astronomy, and often dragged her only child out in the middle of the night to watch a meteor shower. He approached the silhouette.

“Who goes there?” He called, his voice sounding overly loud and grand in the vacant night.

“Nobody,” said a muffled boy’s voice. “Nobody at all.”

“What do you mean?” James laughed, but the air sucked the sound away. He felt fake, all pretentions and facades sucked away by the cool air.

“Here under the sky we’re all just human. The stars don’t know of the Wars or classes or Houses. It doesn’t matter.”

James paused. He had never thought of anything that way before. It was just so… wrong. Disgustingly so. Everyone was always defined by who they were and who their parents were and what had happened. That was just the way things were. No one could just take that away from themselves and say that they were merely a human. That didn’t even make sense. He tried to think of something to say.

“Do you want to come sit?” Asked the boy. “You don’t have to stand, you know. I’m not going to bite you.”

James suddenly had an idea. He pulled out his wand. “ _ Lumos _ .”

“ _ Nox _ .” The spell had only flickered for a moment before the boy turned it off. “You’ll ruin my night vision.”

James sighed, and sat down. “Sorry.”

“No problem.” He paused. “What’s your ambition? Why are you a Slytherin?”

James opened his mouth to give a formula answer, and closed it again. It didn’t seem like the time or place, or even that type of question.

“Sorry,” said the boy. “Being under the stars always makes me philosophical.”

“No, no, it’s fine,” James said, distractedly. “I’m just thinking about it.”

The shuffling sound of someone wearing heavy clothing came from behind them. Both boys spun their heads around.

“Is that you, [insert nickname here]? I can’t believe I had to chase you all the way up here.” Victoria bounded across the floor and sprawled next to the other boy. “Which of you is James?”

“I’m over here,” he growled.

“Oh. Who’s he?” She scooched along the ground to sit next to her friend. James tensed.

“He’s- never mind.” He shook his head. “It doesn’t matter.”

“Why are you so upset?”

James gave an exasperated sigh. “Nothing.”

Victoria kept up a flow of empty conversation as the two boys stared up into the boundless sky.

 

“Alright, you lot! I’m Professor Ullum. I used to fly with the Moose Jaw Meteorites as Seeker. I became Seeker for Gryffindor when I was in my second year, and we won the House Cup every single year I played. No one should doubt my authority when it comes to broomsticks.” The young man raked a hand through his choppy orange hair and grabbed a broomstick from the ground. “Today we will go over the basics for those of you who have never touched one of these before. Those of you who have might complain that these sticks are old, but I could outfly most of you on a Firebolt if you had a Nightstrike 00. If you don’t know what a Firebolt is, just know that it was top of the line when Harry Potter played. These Lightning Qs shouldn’t be a problem for you.

“I see most of you are already standing by a stick. Put your hand somewhere you can catch it and say ‘Up!’. Then hold it like you want to fly and I’ll come around and fix your grip.”

James shouted “Up!” amid cries of the same word. His broomstick lazily floated up a few inches. “Up!” It climbed another few inches. He leaned down and grabbed it, his hands instinctively moving to the correct position.

Professor Ullum approved his grip. A few of the others who had been flying since they could walk did it wrong, but James' cousins had made sure that he could fly correctly. The stick was old, and he could feel the magic lagging. He wished that he had his old Nightstrike 100, but first-years couldn’t bring broomsticks to Hogwarts.

“Right!” Professor Ullum was floating a few feet in the air on his broomstick. “If you turn to the right, you will turn to the right, and the same for left. The steering is incredibly easy. If you want to slow down, pull on your broomstick and lean back. If you want to go faster, push your hands forward and lean in. Leaning from side to side or front to back will help you steer. If you need help at any time, just shout. On the count of three, push off from the ground like you mean it.”

James obediently pushed off, and felt his stick sluggishly lift off the ground. He pointed the broomstick up, pushing it to go faster and higher. He saw Ullum helping a few students who had panicked and fallen off, or were sitting stock still. However, most of the students, even the Muggleborns, were cruising along at a reasonable speed. James smiled, and dove.

His swirls and tricks were interrupted when another figure sped up to be alongside him. Oliver Malfoy looked at him, his gaze serious.

“Potter. Have you spoken to Katherine Smalls?”

James looked confused.  _ What’s his game? _ “No…?”

“You might want to. She has information that might interest your father.” He turned his broomstick and zoomed away. James turned and followed him.

“What do you mean?”

“Exactly what I said.”

“Why are you telling me?”

“I thought I’d give you fair warning.”

“What are you going to do to me?”

“Nothing.” He glanced over at James. “I don’t hate you, Potter.”

“What are you warning me about?”

“Talk to Katherine.”

“Who is she?”

“First-year Gryffindor. Muggleborn.”

James snorted. “And why does her birth matter? I thought you were all clean and good, Malfoy. I wouldn’t think that you cared. You always are so careful not to act like a normal Malfoy.”

“It’s not a bad thing. But in this case it matters, Potter.” He sighed, the gesture nearly lost to the wind. “If you don’t want to listen you don’t have to.” He dove down towards a student who was having trouble flying.

James stared after him. “Why?” He muttered under his breath. He supposed that he might follow up with it, just to see. Professor Ullum shouted something, and James drifted lazily down towards him.

As he was changing out of his school robes some time later, James felt something in crackle in his pocket. He pulled it out.

It was the letter his mother had sent him on Tuesday. He stared at it.  _ Hiding under starlight… burst into full sun… What was she talking about? _ He held it above his head as he lay in bed, his room illuminated only by wandlight.  _ Why would she know? Why didn’t father tell me? _ He shook his head. According to her, he should find out soon enough.

“ _ Nox _ ,” he whispered, and turned over. Questions spun is in his mind for some time before he finally fell asleep.


	5. Chapter 5

James had crept along the hallways before he decided that his movements were too conspicuous and decided to stride like he normally did. He had finally lost the Thomas boys a few turns ago, so he was alone. The first-year Gryffindors had Transfiguration after lunch on Friday afternoons, and at any moment they should be coming this way towards the room from the Great Hall.

As if on cue, the first few came walking by, carrying their schoolbooks. James stood in the shadows, wishing he knew the Disillusionment Charm or had an invisibility cloak or something. The Gryffindors didn’t seem to notice him. He noticed he was holding his breath, and allowed his lungs to fill only a tiny bit.

No Katherine Smalls passed by. The bell resounded through the halls, and the door slammed. He could hear Professor Middleton’s voice coming through the walls. He walked out of the alcove, and looked down the hallway. It was completely empty. He started to walk back to the Great Hall, his steps unnecessarily light. He walked faster, trying to convince himself that it would all have been nothing, anyway. He was stupid to have ever followed up on something a Malfoy said, anyway.

He saw a group of older boys walking down the hall. He recognized most of them, mostly Slytherins. They were talking, laughing. James smiled at them, and attempted to pass them easily. Surely they would know his reputation, and give his power respect. He tossed his hair as he walked by. Just as he strode behind them, one of them ran his hands through his hair. The sleeves of his robe dropped, and he saw a single black line drawn down both of his forearms, starting at his middle finger and disappearing into his robes.

“I wonder what Katherine will think of missing class. I hear she’s quite studious.”

They laughed. “Are you sure the spell will hold?”

The leader snorted. “Of course I’m sure.”

The speaker laughed again, nervously.

James forced himself to keep walking. The others just kept going, appearing to not even notice.

The hallways were silent. He looked into every alcove, trying to find her. The pathway seemed to be twisted and turned more than before. He was sure that the walls of Hogwarts moved often. Finally, he saw a girl lying face down and motionless in a corridor.

“Katherine?” There was no response. His eyes narrowed. “ _ Finite Incan _ \--” His voice broke off. He might be better off leaving her there. What was there to lose? She wouldn’t recognize his voice. No one would ever know that he had been there. Even more than there being nothing to lose, there was nothing to gain. Unless, of course, his awakening her caused her loyalty. However, he didn’t know the situation. Perhaps siding with the others would give him more power. He needed more information. His mouth turned up at the edges, and he kept walking.

He had homework to do, anyway. Professor Jilt has assigned them twelve inches on preciseness in Potion making.  _ Am I really so desperate for an excuse that I use schoolwork? _ He nearly laughed aloud. A Potter needed no excuse for his actions. A Potter was always acting for the greater good. He needed to give no explanation to anyone. It was his decision, and he had made it well.

That was the Potter way. His father would be pleased. He bit his lip.  _ I don’t live for my father’s approval. _ Nonetheless, his father would be pleased. He took a deep breath, and headed down the stairs to the Slytherin common room.

“Good afternoon, Potter.” Patrick Gole was sitting in a chair near the entrance.

“Good afternoon, Gole. How is your father?”

“He is doing well,” murmured Patrick, leaning back. “Yours?”

“The same.”  
“What have you thought of our classes?”

James tried to hide his glare. “They seem to be going very well. What have you thought?”

Patrick shrugged. “They’re difficult. Hopefully they’ll prepare us, though.”

“Prepare us for what?”

“Life, I guess.” He shrugged. “Come sit. We could play a game of Exploding Snaps?”

James laughed. “How old school can you get, Gole?” He sat down, pushing his mouth into some facsimile of a smile.

“What do you want to do, then?” He smiled. “We could discuss your plans.”

“What plans?” James did not have to feign his confusion.

“To take over Britain…?” James nearly cringed at Patrick’s attempt at a wry smile.

“Oh,  _ those  _ plans.”

“I mean, you must be planning  _ something _ .”

“A bit here or there, but we must not speak of it in this company.”

Patrick laughed knowingly. “I understand, Potter. What do you want to do?”

James sighed. He stood, and walked towards the door. “I want to read a book my father recommended to me.”

“What’s it about?”

James gave him a steady glare. “Politics. It is very thick and heavy and you would understand none of it.” He slammed the door to the common room on his way out.

The next robed figure who he saw was, surprisingly, an even more unwelcome sight than Patrick. Katy Lestrange folded her arms when she saw him, and then stood up straight in his path. James was half surprised that she wasn’t growling.

“Excuse me, I wish to go to my room.” He gave her his best conciliatory smile.

“What if I don’t want you to?” She spoke animatedly.

He clenched his jaw. Apparently the smile still needed work. He kept it up anyway. “Then I would most humbly beg that you suffer my passage.”

“And I do think that I would refuse it.” She gave an aggravating smile.

James saw Yarik and Ulric coming up the hallway behind Katy. His smile became bigger.

“What would you do then, Potter?”

“I think that I would just have to have you removed.”

The boys nodded at the same time.

James had heard the expression “his eyes flashed,” but until he saw Katy Lestrange angry he had never really seen it in action. “Would you now. Well, I suppose that just this time I will allow your henchmen to take me away. I mean, I wouldn’t want to interrupt your display of power.” She smiled, turned, and strode down the hall, passing directly between the two boys. They turned and watched her go.

“I am sorry we lost you for so long, sir,” growled Yarik.

James nodded. “Next time I expect better of both of you.”  _ You may find it necessary to lose the bodyguards occasionally. Never reveal your intentions. _

“Sorry, sir,” they mumbled in turn. For a moment James felt himself outside the situation, saw that they were really only a bunch of eleven-year-olds playing at politics and power plays. He pushed the thought down. It made him too uncomfortable to be considered.  
“I need my book from my room. Ulric, fetch it for me. Yarik, I am going to the common room. Prevent Gole from bothering me.”

Ulric had already walked a few paces before he remembered a subdued “Yes, sir.” Yarik just nodded and followed him back into the crowded room.

This time, James pushed past the entrance, neatly bypassing Gole. Yarik displaced a second-year sitting near the fire, and James settled into the seat. Another second-year got up from the place across from him and followed his friend after shooting James a dirty look. James nearly smiled. Father had said that lesser wizards were always upset when greater wizards took their place in power.

He opened his book, and was just started to get lost in it when someone sat down loudly in the empty seat. He glanced up. Krozak was glowering at him.

“Do you wish to speak with me?”

“You could say that.”

“Very well.” He snapped the book shut and passed it off to whatever Thomas boy was standing by that hand. He gave Krozak another conciliatory smile, trying to improve it compared to the last one. “How may I help you?”

“Get rid of your muscle and maybe I’ll tell you nicely.”

James waved his right hand vaguely in the air, the predetermined sign for inconspicuous availability.

“Right. I want to meet you tonight. Not such that we’d get in trouble with the dear old caretaker. Just at maybe nine, if that suits you. On the tower where you have Astronomy. Just you, alone.”

“And what will we do there?”

Krozak smiled. “It’s a surprise.”

“Will it endanger my health?”

“Oh, so you want spoilers, huh? No. I swear to… oh, I swear on The Dark Lord’s flipping  _ diary _ your  _ health won’t be endangered. _ ” He spoke the last few words in a high voice, mimicking James.

“I suppose that will have to do.” James' mouth was a thin line. “It will have to be tomorrow night. We have Astronomy on Fridays.”

Krozak laughed only because the sound was too deep to be called a giggle. “Saturday at nine it is. Maybe there will even be  _ hors d’oeuvres _ .”

“I should not plan on it, Krozak. Now if you have nothing further to say, I wish to continue reading my book.”

He gave another snigger. “Well go ahead and read your book, Potter. I’ll see you tomorrow night.” With that, he got up and walked out of the common room.”

James leaned back in his chair and tried to get back into the complicated text.

 

_ James Potter IV, and Sable his wife, to James Potter V _

 

_ Son. Your mother wishes you well, and asks for a reply containing a description of your first week. She has a gift for you, but had misplaced it at the time when I was writing this letter. You will likely receive it tomorrow morning. _

 

_ I had wished to delay your involvement in this matter, but nonetheless I must ask you. Have you seen any students at Hogwarts with black lines on their arms? I wish for a description of  their year, House, and background, as well as the company that they hold. I would hope that you should reply promptly if possible. _

 

_ Father and Mother _

 

James sat at the breakfast table, hiding himself from Victoria’s chatter in his letters. A strange owl had brought him  _ The Morning Prophetess _ and  _ Wizards International. _ The table was too crowded to contemplate spreading them out, but he had folded them open to read their front pages. His younger second cousin, Jane, had sent him two scrolls--a letter and a painting of her brother. Aunt River wanted him to greet Professor Lu, who had been a year above her in school. Victoria was free of any letters whatsoever, and was by this time bored out of her mind.

“Why don’t you talk to the person sitting on the other side of you?” James scanned the Foreign Relations section of  _ The Morning Prophetess _ .

“I tried. He’s just as buried in his newspaper as you are in yours.”

“What newspaper?”

“ _ The Quibbler. _ Ethereal Lovegood is still going strong about Roofles or whatever in our teeth.”

“You know, they were fairly accurate for a time.”

Victoria rolled her eyes. “Yes, James, I know. During the Wizarding Wars. That time is long past.”

“So it is.” He reached for  _ Wizards International _ , hoping that she’d pick up some sort of hint from his posture.  _ Not that it’s likely. _

“So how are we doing in Quidditch?”

“I don’t know. Here, read it yourself.” He pulled out the Quidditch section of  _ The Morning Prophetess _ and handed it to her. “I’m busy.”

It only kept her quiet for about a second. “What? I can’t believe we’re doing that badly. Although Scotland is doing really well, they’re neck-to-neck with Spain.”

“Would you please read your newspaper quietly?” James felt himself beginning to snap at her, his shoulder tense.

She snorted. “I just thought you might be interested.”

“Not right now.” He picked up his father’s letter again and reread it.

“Why are you so obsessed with that letter?”

“I’m not.” He piled up all his papers and handed everything but the letter to Yarik. “I’m just going to the Owlery. I’ll see you later.”

“Bye then.” She sounded indignant.

“Goodbye.” He kept his voice even and polite with more effort than he would ever admit. She grabbed her section of the paper with a vengeance as he walked out of the room. He thought he might be able to hear words along the lines of  _ arrogant self-obsessed idiot _ as he left the Great Hall, but he decided that he would pretend that he had imagined them. One had to allow for such behaviors in one’s subordinates if one wanted to get anywhere in life.


	6. Chapter 6

Winter was blowing in early this year, and despite his heavy cloak around his shoulders he shivered. He thought that it might be five before nine, but it was nigh on impossible to tell. Another gust of wind blew across his neck, and he shivered. The clouds were hanging low, and from this high up it seemed that he should be able to touch them. They blocked the light of the stars, and the light of the gibbous moon had to reach through the mist to reach the ground. James could hardly even see the tops of the trees spread out below. He blew into his hands, trying to warm them. The seconds inched along into minutes. 

“You came.” Krozak’s voice came from behind him.

James tensed, but controlled his instinct to jump visibly. “Yes.”

“Alone?”

“As we agreed.”

“Good. My friend should not be far behind us.”

“You brought a friend?”

“She is coming separately, but yes.”

James paused, thinking furiously. “That is acceptable.” Krozak had never said that the meeting would be the two of them, or that he would come alone.

An ugly laugh bit through the air. “I am glad you agree, Potter. She comes now.”

Another figure joined them. Her hair hung over her face, and in the darkness he could hardly make out her facial features.

“Good evening, Potter. I am glad you have come.” She turned to Krozak. “You may go, Justin.”

James nearly spoke against it, and then cursed his stupidity. He was playing the game for real now, at least it appeared that he was, and he had to keep his equanimity.

Krozak disappeared into the castle. The young woman watched him go, and then turned back to face him.

“So now we can speak normally.” She reached into her pocket. “ _ Lumos _ .” Ghostly yellow-white light light up her face. James recognized her from the hallway, but didn’t know her name. “James Potter V. Heir apparent of all the power and wealth of the house of Potter. Defender of the weak, or at least those who it is in his interest to help. Punisher of wrongdoers, or at least those who you hadn’t hired in the first place. I hear that your father was the same way. I am here to offer you a deal. Shall we do business?”

James steadied his breathing. “I will not commit until I hear the deal.”

She smiled. “Very well. What I commit or what you commit?”

“I prefer not to do business with those I whose names I don’t know.”

“Oh?”

“It makes it so much harder to track them down if there’s a problem.” He clenched his jaw, hoping that he had said the right thing.

She smiled. “I like your style. Beatrice Eagre. I’m a fifth year…Gryffindor. I’ve heard you don’t like Gryffindors.” She paused, smirking. “Don’t look so pathetic, Potter. I’ve heard it from more…confidential sources. I’m only divulging this information because I would like to tell you that no matter your feelings on my House as a whole, I don’t want a single comment from you concerning the matter. I  _ will  _ be judged as an individual.” She smiled tightly. “Or we won’t have a deal.”

James' lips were nearly white. “I understand, Miss Eagre.”

She flashed her pearly whites, and pushed a few errant strands of her sleek dark hair behind her ear. “Excellent.”

“And the deal?” Asked James, hoping the tremor of his voice wasn’t as obvious as he felt it was.

“We won’t discuss it here. You’ll receive a message in the next few days. I’ll speak with Krozak. He shouldn’t bother you any longer. I see no reason for your further interaction.”

James felt off balance, but he needed to respond. “Of course, Miss Eagre.” He paused, thoughtful. “If that is all, I would like to get out of the cold.”

She smiled. “Of course. You can go down first.”

“Thank you for considering me for business.” He turned and began to walk away.

“Oh, and Potter.” He spun on his heel warily. In the dim wandlight, she gave him an eerie smile. “Call me Beatrice.”

James nodded, and continued the long walk back to the dungeons.

 

It was Sunday morning. James lay on his bed and tossed his wand into the air for the fiftieth time. He caught it deftly by the holding end, aimed, and flicked it up again. It was quarter past ten. He had missed breakfast altogether, but he was thinking, and thinking is too important to interrupt. The nearly black wood spun in the air. He caught it, by the pointed end. He held it carefully, and flipped it over and over in his fingers. Eleven inches of magical ability, held so lightly. “ _ Lumos _ .” A light sprang to life.  “ _ Nox _ .” It was extinguished. The magic was channeled through a phoenix feather, or at least somehow the feather let him control it more easily. He wasn’t really clear on how wands worked.

A long sigh escaped from his lips. He hauled himself up to sitting, and swung out of the bed. He sighed again. He walked forward and stumbled into the bathroom. He blinked at himself in the mirror. His hair was a mess. He blinked again. “I need to get up.”

He walked over to the closet and knocked on the right inside wall twice. A few moments later, Yarik appeared at his door.

“Sir?”

“I need to get up. Fetch me my robes.”

“Yes, sir.”

He prepared for the day, slowly. He finally wandered over to the common room, and grabbed a danish off of the table.

“Good morning, Potter.”

He glanced up. Ophelia stood near the entrance to the room.

“Good morning, Ophelia. Did you sleep well?”

“Decently. Yourself?” She took a bite out of a muffin.

James shrugged. “I slept. You got any plans for your first Sunday?”

“Not really. My parents want me to owl them. I was thinking of heading up to the Owlery after eating something. I slept in a lot longer than I meant to.”

He opened his mouth to agree, but changed his mind. “That does happen.”

“Yeah…I wish it didn’t.”

They avoided eye contact.

“I mean, really,” she continued, trying to stretch the conversation. “Did Yarik and Ulric wake you up?”

He shook his head. “I didn’t tell them to. They only wake me up when I need to wake up for something.”

“Oh, like one of those Muggle alarm clocks.” She giggled. “Where were you last night? I was looking for you around nine, but Victoria said that you hadn’t gone to bed.”

“Oh, you know, meeting people.”

She looked bemused. “What type of people?”

James fought the urge to play with the edge of his sleeve, and forced a smooth smile. “I had some private business to arrange.”

“What, like copying other people’s History notes?”

James stopped his smile from turning into a grimace. “No, not exactly like that.”

Ophelia shrugged, and brushed the last few crumbs from her muffin off of her robes. “See you later, Potter.”

He watched her retreated back. The room was mostly empty except for a few students studying. He had already finished his own homework. The only thing he had to do that day was Flying at night.

A few minutes later, he found himself wandering aimlessly through the hallways, the Thomas boys trailing a few yards behind him. He was just passing by the Ravenclaw dormitories when Yarik tapped him on the shoulder.

“Yes?”

“Sir, someone is following us.”

“One of you go find them.” He kept walking.

“Here she is, sir.”

James spun on his heel. A slight girl that he didn’t recognize, although she might’ve been in her third year, was struggling against Ulric’s hold on her arm. James extended a hand.

“James Potter V. Is there a problem?”

She batted his hand away. “Yes, your monkey needs to be called off.”

“Ulric,” stated James. Her arm was released, although the boy muttered something about being called monkey.

“So what was it you wanted to talk to me about?” Asked James.

“Eagre wanted me to give you this.” She handed him a scroll, sealed in plain wax. “I don’t know what it is, and she said she would know if I tampered with it so I didn’t.”

He smiled. “Thank you. Is there anything else?”

“No.”

“Well then it was nice meeting you.”

“And you. See you around.” She turned and walked away.

James had only barely controlled his impulse to rip the letter open while she was standing there. He carefully broke the seal, walking into an empty classroom as he did so.

 

_ Meet me on Tuesday night at ten thirty in the Library. _

 

_ If you have any other plans, change them. _

 

_ Beatrice. _

 

James stared at it for a few moments. “What’s my schedule on Tuesdays?”

“Charms and History are in the morning, and you have double Transfiguration in the afternoon, sir. After that you are free.”

“Do I have any of those classes on Wednesdays?”

“You have double Charms on Wednesday morning, sir.”

“Excellent.”

James knew enough of this sort of protocol to know what was expected for the letter. “ _ Evanesco _ .” Nothing happened. “ _ Incendio _ .”

He sighed, and stuck the edge of the paper into a nearby torch. The flame soon began to lick its way across the surface. He kept his hold on it until only a tiny bit remained, dropped it on the floor, and ground it out with his shoe.

He smiled. “We are going back to the common room.”

He walked out of the door, ignoring the mutters of “sir” from behind him. A sly smile spread across his face.  _ The plot thickens _ , he noted melodramatically. He chuckled at his own drollery. 


	7. Chapter 7

At five past ten, James found that he was too antsy to focus on his Transfiguration homework. Professor Middleton had assigned eighteen inches of research on Animagi, to be turned in before Friday. He had thus far written less than an inch.

He stood and stretched. Ulric appeared by his side from the other room.

“Clean this stuff up. I’m going to bed, so let me alone for a while.”

After a muttered “sir”, Ulric hurried out of the bedroom.

James lay back and waited for the footsteps to cease. After a few moments, he glanced through the crack in the door. Neither Thomas boy was in the reception room. He carefully turned off the light in his room, and slipped out of his suite. 

It was probably around ten fifteen when James walked into the library. He nodded to the librarian and walked to one of the more inane research sections. He stared at a few books, feeling that time had slowed down to a crawl. He tried to tell himself that his stomach was turning from hunger, but he knew it was a lie.

Finally, Beatrice slipped into the seat across from him.

“Good evening, Potter. Trying to do Transfiguration homework?”

He closed the book. “I don’t need to be. What was it you wanted to see me about?”

She smiled. “Not here. I know a place where we can talk freely. You leave, I’ll follow in a few minutes.” She turned away, her hand on her wand. She pulled something out of her purse, wrapped it around herself, and disappeared.

_ Maybe I could borrow her invisibility cloak. _

James left the library, and waited by the entrance. Time had slowed again, but his heart raced. An infinity of seconds later, a shape came sliding out of the library. Beatrice shrugged off the cloak.. “Follow me.”

There was silence, but for the slow pound of feet, for a few moments. They walked up multiple staircases, and the halls twisted around in strange and eldritch ways. Finally, Beatrice motioned a halt.

“Wait here.” She walked back and forth across a strange tapestry of someone trying to teach trolls what looked like ballet. After the third time, she pushed the tapestry aside and opened the door. James followed her through.

“Where are we?”

“The Room of Requirement. This is where Harry Potter and his friends hid at the start of the Second Wizarding War. It’s a well kept secret, and most people who do know about it think that it was destroyed.”

The room was empty but for a table and two chairs. Several pieces of parchment and some quills rested on the table. Beatrice sat down, and James pulled out the chair opposite her.

“So here we have a private room to do business.” She pulled a piece of parchment close to her. “You have heard of the Protectors? You may have heard their full name, the Protectors of the Established and Advocates of Protective Education, or PEACE. Sometimes I wonder how long it took them to come up with that one.”

James hadn’t, but he nodded anyway.

“Right. I am going to stop them.”

_ Why _ felt too obvious, so James asked, “How?”

“Well, I can protect their victims easily, of course. But to get to the deeper roots beyond their day-to-day actions, I need you.”

James smiled smoothly. “I would be willing to offer my help, of course, for some…” He bit his lip so that he wouldn’t say “Er…” like an idiot. “Reasonable reimbursement. I’m not going to do anything that will make people think badly about the Potters, either.” He felt his pulse begin to pound. This was real life; no one could fool him now. This was exciting, like a daydream adventure. He was actually going to get power and respect.  _ Something Father never gave me, _ he thought, but he immediately followed it up with a  _ Shut up. _ He realized Beatrice was speaking, and scrambled to remember what she hd just said.

“Naturally. We’ve got to agree on that later.” She leaned forward, spinning a Galleon over the fingers of a slender hand. “If you work with me, we could bring them down in all of England, not just Hogwarts. Don’t you want to be a part of that?”

He resisted the urge to snigger. Meeting her eyes numbed his ability to speak properly, and he pulled his attention away from her. “Your deal is… interesting. I may, however, need some time to mull it over.” He hoped that his words were right. His palms were sweaty, and he tried to discreetly wipe them on his robes. He tried to tell himself to keep calm, but mostly all he thought was  _ MerlinspantsthisisreallifeMerlinsflippingpantsohIcanhardlybelievethis. _

“You have as long as you need, although I would prefer that you take less than two weeks.” She pulled a scroll out of her bag. “This is a preliminary contract. Write on it what you want to change, and we will meet again. Send your owl from, oh, Sirius Black to Narcissa Malfoy. The address should be somewhere close to Bath.”

James nodded. “I will think over our deal, Beatrice.”

She smiled sweetly. “Take your time, Potter. This is of utmost importance. You shouldn’t make a rushed decision.”

They shook hands before parting in the hallway. James could feel her gaze on the back of his head. He looked over his shoulder.

“Call me James.”

The edges of her lips slipped up even more. “Take your time,  _ James _ .”

“I will.”

 

James had decided before he walked out the door.

Of course, he needed to look over the contract, see what there was, make sure he wasn’t being ripped off and that the payoff would be worth the trouble for him, if not for both of them. It would be stupid to flub his first job; he would never be able to get anything done. He could ask his father for a few of his old business contracts without garnering too much suspicion. Despite his rather forced caution, he already knew that he wanted to work with Beatrice. Maybe he would do some research and impress her with his knowledge of the Protectors. He would need to have intelligent conversation about it, anyway.

He wondered what he would tell the Thomas boys for a few moments before snorting at his own stupidity. They were bodyguards and servants, grandsons of men who had gone against his grandfather’s will and were still paying back the consequences. They didn’t need to know what he was up to any more than they needed to know why they kept losing him. These meetings he would likely tell them about. Otherwise, they might start to wonder where he was going. He smiled.

The hallways at night were lonely and mostly dark. Ms. Davies wandered through them, of course. James would have to find out if she walked in a pattern that could be timed. He almost got lost four times before stumbling on a familiar corridor, and only once did he ask a portrait for directions. It was quarter to midnight when he finally stumbled into his room, and he dropped into bed without even taking off his robes.


	8. Chapter 8

Professor Tover wandered towards James. James hurriedly shoved the scroll back into his pocket. Tover wasn’t convinced.

“What are you looking at, Potter?”

“Why, Professor?”

“You’re having an Herbology lesson. One that does not involve having apparently unrelated papers out. What was it?”

James tried to keep his expression calm. “Something private, Professor.”

Tover laughed. “Well don’t do it again, Potter. The other young ladies might get jealous for your attention.”

James sighed, and tried to figure out whether Professor Jilt would notice in Potions later. The answer was probably yes. He shoved the contract farther into his pocket. James had written his father during lunch, and wasn’t expecting a response until the next morning. He waited another few minutes. Tover wandered by again.

“May I use the bathroom?”

Tover shook his head. “Go, Potter.”

He walked to the nearest one and pulled the scroll out of his pocket.

 

_ Beatrice Eagre and James Potter V _

 

_ By the signing of this contract both parties are bound to the words contained herein until released by mutual agreement, as detailed below. _

 

_ Subject the First: Services Offered by James Potter V _

 

_ One: He shall protect, or provide for the protection of, Beatrice Eagre, as is agreed upon and written into words for individual occasions. The definition of “protection” includes protection from physical harm as well as protection from slander, libel, or shaming, whether written or spoken. It does not include protection in the situation of an unrelated court case, or such that would cause James Potter V or any of his family members, friends, etc., to undergo similar harmful experiences or interest from a court of law. _

 

_ Two: He shall use his political power, detailed below, against the Protectors, and never to protect or to provide for the protection of their names unless any slander, libel, or shaming, written or spoken, is readily apparent to be seen as untruthful and/or the two Parties, e.g. Beatrice Eagre and James Potter V, agree to protect them. He will also use his political power, defined as his friendships, influence on the public, and status, to search out any sources of the Protectors power. This and all other information pertinent to the Protectors shall be shared with Beatrice Eagre. _

 

_ Three: He shall protect, or provide for the protection of, any victims of the Protectors, excepting no one unless strictly allowed in written form by a mutual agreement by the Parties. Again, protection includes both physical protection and protection from slander, etc. _

 

_ Four: Any fame or fortune associated with the Parties arises, it must be shared equally with publicly acknowledged credit. Monetary compensation shall be agreed upon at a later point if it becomes necessary. _

 

_ Subject the Second: Services Offered by Beatrice Eagre _

 

_ One: She shall protect, or provide for the protection of, James Potter V, as is agreed upon and written into words for individual occasions. The definition of “protection” includes protection from physical harm as well as protection from slander, libel, or shaming, whether written or spoken. It does not include protection in the situation of an unrelated court case, or such that would cause Beatrice Eagre or any of her family members, friends, etc., to undergo similar harmful experiences or interest from a court of law. _

 

_ Two: She shall not engage in any deals with, or protect in any way the members of the Protectors, as described above. A “deal” is defined as any parley, agreement, written or verbal, or mitigating conversation. This may be changed according to the express and written agreement of the two Parties. _

 

_ Three: She shall protect, or provide for the protection of, any victims of the Protectors, excepting no one unless strictly allowed in written form by a mutual agreement by the Parties. Again, protection includes both physical protection and protection from slander, etc. _

 

_ Four: Any fame or fortune associated with the Parties arises, it must be shared equally with publicly acknowledged credit. Monetary compensation shall be agreed upon at a later point if it becomes necessary. _

 

_ Subject the Third: Dissolution of This Agreement _

 

_ One: This agreement, and any parts of it, can only be dissolved by the express and written agreement by both Parties. Any amendments shall be written down and included in the same location as the original copy of this agreement. _

 

_ Two: If either of the Parties is being subjected to interest from a court of law, this agreement can be considered to be null and void by the express and written statement of the other Party without agreement or consultation of the subjected Party, so long as it is not directly in contrast to other parts of this agreement. _

 

_ Three: If either Party dies or becomes incapable of response, the agreement is null and void except for Section One Part Four and Section Two Part Four. The Parties agree to help with medical costs involved directly in the actions resulting from this agreement. _

 

_ By signing, both Parties declare that they understand everything contained within this document and that this document is holding in a court of law. _

 

_ Signed: _

 

_ Beatrice Eagre: _

_ Date: _

 

_ James Potter V: _

_ Date: _

 

_ As a witness to this agreement I certify that the signers both understand the document and are signing under their own names and their own free will. _

 

_ Witness (print, then sign): _

_ Date: _

 

James sighed, and tucked it back into his pocket. Then, he allowed himself a boyish grin. This was for real. He would be the hero--people listened to those they thought were heroes--of a real story, not just the heir of the House of Potter and scion of Harry Potter. The Protectors wouldn’t even know what was coming for them. No, they would, and that was even better.

He walked slowly back to Herbology, trying to come up with intelligent comments on the proposed contract, or what he could understand of it. He wanted to be able to keep some secrets about the Protectors. Perhaps the definition of “political power” needed more clarification, and some additional leeway. He would write those notes down in Potions next, if Jilt would let him. He could get the letter off after Astronomy tonight, perhaps, or maybe before. He wanted to start in his new role as soon as possible.  _ I am  _ not _ going to mess this one up. Just not an option. _ He tried to calm the butterflies in his stomach, and barely succeeded.

He would also have to take some time out to research the Protectors. He might be able to owl his father without garnering too much suspicion, but he wouldn’t want to let him steal all the glory. James Potter IV was a Slytherin and a Potter, after all, and held to the expected ambition.

From the name, he assumed that they were some sort of blood purist group. What had Beatrice said? Protectors of Establishment and Associates for Correct Education? He knew that the acronym was PEACE. From the wording of the contract, they were probably bullies. He was glad that Beatrice had come to him for help.

He pushed down a brief thought that it was odd that she would ask a first-year for help, especially when she could have asked Ginevra. His cousin was in both her year and her house. However, that was ridiculous, clearly. It was clear that anyone would ask a Potter for help over someone else, even over a Weasley. He snorted.  _ Especially _ over a Weasley.

If they were bullies, they had victims. He thought back to Katherine Smalls. Malfoy had wanted to warn him about something. Perhaps Oliver himself was involved in the Protectors. It seemed likely, and even more so in light of the fact that James was fairly certain that he was a pureblood.  _ The last of his kind _ , he added smugly.

If the Protectors were blood purists, James was surprised that he hadn’t heard of them before. His father might know of them, though. He shouldn’t ask his father for information after all--it might make him look weak. James cringed at the thought of his father thinking him less than satisfactory.

James wasn’t interrupted from his reverie by bumping into someone, but by the time that his back hit the floor he was paying attention. He scrambled up on his elbows, but a large boot was set on his chest. At a push, he collapsed back onto the ground.

“What are you doing all the way over here, Potter?” A tall man--overpoweringly tall, frighteningly tall--stood over him. James shook his head to clear it. His opponent was in some high class at Hogwarts, and the hand on one of his crossed arms was decorated with a blue and silver ring. “The only thing around here that any child would be interested in is the Ravenclaw common room. And I hope for your sake that you aren’t planning on going there.”

“No…” James tried to push up on the boot, uselessly. “I was going back to Herbology.”

“From where? The Ancient Runes classroom? I can’t think of a good reason for you to be here.”

“I must have… taken a wrong turn somewhere.”

“Sure.” He pushed his foot farther down on James' chest, and James felt the air rushing out of his lungs.

James thought wildly. “If you let me up, I’ll… I’ll…”

“You’ll what? You don’t have anything to offer me. What’re you going to say now?  _ My father will hear about this,  _ huh? It wouldn’t surprise me. You act like what I’ve heard about Draco Malfoy in every other way.”

“Frederick Glass. What are you doing?” James recognized the voice of Professor Hibbins.

Frederick removed his foot from James' chest. “Nothing that you need to know about, Professor. I don’t want to be subjected to a lecture about heroism.” He turned and walked away.

“Mr. Glass, if you do not come back here, your punishment will only grow graver.” His jaw was set.

Frederick kept walking.

Professor Hibbins offered James a hand. He took it. “Mr. Potter. I’m surprised to see you here. I thought that first year Slytherins had Herbology after lunch on Wednesdays.”

“Yes, sir. I went to the bathroom, and must have taken a wrong turn on the way back, sir.” James gave him his best smile.

“Ah.” He did not look convinced. “Well the class is nearly over. I’ll walk you to Potions.”

“Yes, sir.” James tried to think of ways to get rid of him briefly, but none came.

“So what have you thought of your classes thus far this year?” He laughed. “I mean, obviously Defense Against the Dark Arts is best, but aside from that.

James adopted a sheepish grin, and picked a class at random. “Charms is nice. I mean, for a while I thought that we would stay on the Wand-Lighting Spell forever, but I like the way Professor Lu teaches.”

“And I doubt that the Headmaster would let her stay if all she taught was the Wand-Lighting Spell.”

The walk to the Potions classroom was not long, and they walked in silence the rest of the way. Hibbins took easy strides, and James hated himself for having to move so quickly to keep up. In places he almost had to jog.

James was just turning into the room--he could see that his books had already been set up next to his chair--when Professor Hibbins broke the silence.

“Has Glass ever bothered you before, Potter?”

“No, sir.” James paused in the doorway.

“Tell me if he does.”

“Yes, sir.” James stayed put for another moment before striding into the room. He kept his gaze forward. He didn’t want to look back and let the Professor see that he had been lying.  _ I can deal with my own problems. _


	9. Chapter 9

“Morning, Potter.”

James glanced up from his book. He had meant to come down to look at the new version of the contract that Beatrice had sent him, but he was stalling.

“What do you want, Malfoy?”

Oliver held his hands up in the air. “Just a friendly greeting.”

“It’s seven in the morning on a Saturday. Why are you awake?”

“I could ask you the same question. What’s wrong?” James thought that he heard genuine concern.  _ I suppose some people are just better at faking it than others. _

He sat down across the table from James, and opened their Defense against the Dark Arts textbook. He made no further effort to speak.

James reread the same paragraph he had been reading before. At this rate, he wouldn’t finish his father’s book before Christmas. The words spun before his vision, meaninglessly. Finally, he looked up.

“What do you mean, what’s wrong?”

Malfoy met his eyes. “You’ve been acting strange recently. I mean, I know it’s none of my business and we’re not friends, but still.”

“It’s no business of yours, Malfoy.”

“No.” He turned back to reading. James could see that he was reading about Dark rituals. James reached for his pocket, and pulled out the contract. There had been a few changes. He wondered if he had missed something obvious.

“Why are you asking me if it’s none of your business?”

Malfoy sighed, and straightened up. “Because I don’t think you have any friends, Potter. I wanted to know if you wanted to, you know, talk.”

“I don’t want to talk to a Malfoy.”

Oliver shrugged. “It’s your funeral.”

“What do you mean by that?” Asked James sharply.

Malfoy gave another sigh, and shok his head. “It’s a saying, Potter. Relax.”

“Why did you ask me about Katherine Smalls?”

“Because…” The other boy bit his lip. “I wanted to test you, Potter. That was wrong of me.”

“What do you mean, you wanted to test me?”

There was silence for a few seconds too long. “I don’t know. When I see you, and I can’t really help but see you even I try to avoid you, I think about what your life must be like. I worry sometimes about what you’re going to become.”

“I should worry about what’s going to become of  _ you _ .”

Malfoy laughed, not a mean laugh, but a true laugh.

“What?” James leaned forward. “Why are you laughing at me?”

“That was an extremely lame comeback.” He laughed again, a hand over his mouth. He shook his head. “You don’t have to be offended, Potter.”

James felt like he was watching an alien. Malfoy had to have another reason for his actions. People don’t just  _ do _ things. However, he could not think of a reason for the boy to act so undignified, even if he was trying to befriend him. He felt himself staring, and averted his eyes.

“What are you reading, anyway? I’ve seen you lugging that thing around since school started.”

“ _ The Art of Response: Volume Three. _ My father recommends the set highly, but this is his favorite.”

Malfoy nodded, and both boys turned back to their books. James managed to concentrate this time, and there was silence for a time.

“Good morning!” A cheery voice came from behind him.

“Good morning, Greengrass. What wakes you up so early?”

“It’s five till eight, Potter. Quite a few of the girls are awake. She plopped down at the table.

“Whatever. Do you have plans for today?”

“Not really.” She tossed some girly magazine in front of her, and began to flip through it. “What are you two talking about?” She looked up, and seemed to recognize Malfoy for the first time. She hardly concealed her look of distaste.

“We were sitting in peaceful silence until a moment ago.”  _ I really need to pick up the comebacks today. _ He shook his head.

She ignored him. “So do you want to hang out today? We could go walk down by the lake. I think that some of the Gryffindors are throwing a party tomorrow, so they’ll probably be setting up.”

James grimaced to his book, figuring that its pages wouldn’t… _ bounce _ at him.  _ Why would I want to watch Gryffindors set up a party? _ “Of course, Victoria. We can head down after breakfast.”

“Cool! I oughta go owl my parents. See you then!”

She picked up her magazine and walked out of the common room.

Malfoy looked up, opened his mouth to speak, and looked down again.

“What?”

“Nothing.”

“No, what? What were you going to say to me?”

“Back off, Potter. I’m not trying to attack you.”

“Whatever. What were you saying?”

“Don’t you ever…” He paused. “How do I put this?” He drummed his fingers on the tabletop. “Don’t you ever wish that your friends didn’t all spend all their time… oh, trying to get something out of your friendship?”

James looked up. “...No?”

“Huh.” Malfoy turned the page.

James tried to begin a new chapter, but the first paragraph was filled with words he didn’t understand. He read them over and over, trying to figure it out. He wondered what Malfoy meant. He spent all of his time trying to gain an advantage through his friendships. That’s what friends were for, right? Supposedly you could have selfless friendships, but why would anyone do that? Even Harry Potter had befriended people so that they would help him on his journey. He had pretended to want them to leave at some point so that they would stay with him through hardship--people did that if you gave them a choice--but that was still getting something out of it. Ron Weasley had gained popularity, so of course he wanted to come. Albus Dumbledore had ruthlessly used every member of the Order of the Phoenix, including Severus Snape. Lily Evans had used James Potter I for money, obviously. There were countless more examples of good people having useful friendships, and few of them having selfless ones.

Once friendships were used up, you abandoned them, obviously. Ron Weasley had weighed his risks and left, and only returned because he realized that he needed to stay with them to keep any of the benefits of fame. After Ollivander had outlived his welcome, they let him die. If someone wasn’t worth keeping around, they were an unnecessary drain.

“Hey, Potter! Good morning.” James glanced up. Ophelia had come bouncing into the room.  _ Speaking of unnecessary drains… _

“Good morning. You slept alright?”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah. Hey, do you have plans? I’m probably going to go down to the lake after breakfast and I was wondering if you wanted to come.”

“Actually I’m already going down there with another friend. You could probably come with us if you wanted.”  _ Why did I say that? _

Ophelia’s face fell. “Yeah, I guess. I just wanted to talk.”

“No problem.” James turned, almost forcefully, back to his book.

This, however, did not appear to dissuade her, and she slid into the seat next to him. She leaned over and whispered in his ear.

“Why are you talking to Malfoy?”

He pushed her away, lightly. “We’re not talking.” He sounded offended.

“I can hear, you know.” Malfoy hadn’t even looked up.

James gave a fake smile. “I’m sorry if I’ve offended you, Malfoy.” He saw Ophelia’s pout out of the corner of his eye.  _ Did I really just apologize to a Malfoy? _ He gave a mental snort.  _ I suppose it was only so that I wouldn’t apologize to Ophelia Kempf. _

Ophelia sighed. “Well, if you’re going to be like that, I guess that I’ll go to breakfast a few minutes early.” She flounced towards the door, and slammed it behind her.

James expected Malfoy to give some sort of dry comment, but after a few moments of silence it was clear that he was going to keep his peace.

For the next few minutes, both boys buried themselves in their studies. Malfoy occasionally scribbled something down on a piece of parchment he had nearby. James wrestled with  _ The Art of Response _ . A few other students drifted down the stairs, most of them barely sparing them a second glance. A couple of second-years started some noisy card game across the common room.

Oliver stood abruptly. “I’m going to breakfast, Potter. Come with if you wanna.”

James stared at the page.  _ You’re not going to get specialized treatment like that again, Malfoy. That was a one-time deal. _

Oliver waited for an answer only for another half-second before turning and striding out the door.

**Author's Note:**

> Any ideas for James' nickname? I have been stuck for literally weeks.


End file.
